i am not in control of myself.

i've always carried my anger with me.

a fire burns behind her eyes.

i take on my mother's rage.

she had once been so innocent.

i sat down with my rage long enough to learn its true name: grief.

i don't care if you cut me with a knife - it feels thrilling here.

i carry your heart with me. i carry it in my heart.

love is supposed to hurt, isn't it?

now i looked like what i was; a raw wound.